There’s one thing that must be said, especially in the first review post of this blog: I am a sucker for a good short story.
It’s nothing short of incredible to be taken out of your reality in just a few pages. It’s easy to immerse yourself fully into the world of a book when you have 300 pages to get to know the characters, understand their personalities and motivations, figure out how you’d interact with them in their world or in your world. You have time to imagine how they look, what their environment is like, anticipate their next moves. With a short story, you’re racing against page limits, often left wondering what happened and wanting more. It’s frustrating and exhilarating all at the same time.
So yeah- I’m into short stories.
It’s hard to write about this book and Marina, its author, without feeling a little intrusive. Marina’s death in a car accident just a few days following her Yale graduation was widely reported, often with poignant reference to the beautiful essay she had written for her class’s commencement ceremonies. There is no need to explore the added gravity of her words in light of her death; instead, know that it is an essay that encompasses concurrent feelings of security and uncertainty that still resonates strongly two years later (and I suspect will continue to do so for many years to come and in any number of situations). The intrusiveness comes from the finality of the work- though gorgeously written as is, it’s hard to tell if these were pieces ready for publication to her liking and even harder to fathom that this is both her first and final work.
The pieces themselves are at once insightful and accessible. She writes the way I wish I could- seamlessly weaving together people and situations and concepts into beautiful and cohesive stories. The Ingenue is my favorite example of this- focusing on the concept that we let ourselves believe the lies of the people we care about and how much we’re willing to lie to ourselves. Cold Pastoral– which I read last year when it was published online through the New Yorker– is a completely honest and relatable look at the confusion of our friendships and relationships, told from a perspective I hope to never face. Others, like Winter Break, touch on the uncertainties of returning to a place you once knew. The realism of her fiction is astounding.
Her nonfiction work is equally impressive and evocative. Even Artichokes Have Doubts sticks out- questioning her fellow Yale graduates’ decisions to stop trying to change the world in their own unique ways and instead subjecting themselves to a life of typical post-graduation jobs. I was particularly compelled by Against the Grain as well and not solely for its punny title: Marina explains and explores her lifelong allergy to gluten, somehow taking a tired topic and bringing a fresh take. In it, she delves into her relationship with her mother- yet another window into the life of this dynamic woman- and speaks so fluently to the complications of parenthood that it’s hard to believe she is the child. There is so little that is tedious about her writing, even in her longer pieces (like Artichokes)- it’s remarkable.
You’ll like this if: you like sometimes-angsty but always-observational first person short stories about people mostly of college age who have made and continue to make questionable decisions and are coping with the repercussions. Also, if you like truthful stories, some of which may resonate little with you but are no less enjoyable for that.
Happy reading!
carlyreads 